Oranges and Omens
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have always shared the most important parts of their lives – except for their feelings about each other. R/J, with other appearances by the senshi and Shitennou. Third piece in this universe.
1. Toads

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story!

**Characters:**

Joaquin de Vittoria - Jadeite  
Zacarías de Santangel - Zoisite  
Serafina de Luna - Usagi  
Rosalía de Teran - Rei  
Dimas de Teran – Mamoru  
Casimiro de Ortega - Kunzite  
Magdalena de Saravia - Minako  
Belén – Beryl  
Nicodemo de Villarreal – Nephrite  
Maricela de Soria - Makoto  
Emilia de Palma – Ami

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Toads_

* * *

Two blond heads bent over the riverbed, the sun burnishing them to palest gold and ruddy bronze before it moved on to frolic in the river. The boys were too absorbed in their task to take notice of the diamond-bright sparks the sunlight struck off the river. They were busy collecting their own prizes – squat brown toads that burrowed in the cool, squelchy mud to get away from the summer heat.

Joaquin de Vittoria picked up a particularly ugly specimen, examining its protruding eyes and warty back. Before it could hop away, he deposited it into the bucket of cold water and quickly replaced the cloth covering to prevent any escapes.

"When you get caught, I want it to be known that this was not my idea. In fact, it would be best if you didn't give me any credit at all."

Zacarías de Santangel, who had been frowning in close concentration over his own catch, finally looked over at his friend for the first time in a good five minutes. "Get caught? Doing what?"

"Aren't we gathering these so you can put them in Serafina's bed?"

There was genuine shock and horror in Zacarías's voice. "No! Whatever gave you that idea?"

Joaquin blinked at him. "Because last month it was lizards."

"Oh, that. Lizards run in and out of the house all the time, and they wouldn't have been hurt unless she sat on them. These, though – they wouldn't like it very much." He cast a fond look at the amphibian cupped in his hands. "Their skin would dry out quickly, and they might die."

"Then why are we catching all these toads?" Joaquin demanded.

"I'll release them later. After I study them. I'm going to be a naturalist," Zacarías announced proudly.

"What's a naturalist?" an unfamiliar voice piped up.

Joaquin spun around, dropping another toad in the process, but Zacarías, who believed that everything he did was of universal interest, even to strangers, was completely unfazed. He proceeded to explain grandly, "A naturalist is a man of the world. He studies all the creatures in it, observing how they live and why they do the things they do."

"And then they go on and tell everyone else what they've discovered," Joaquin added dryly.

The newcomer, a small girl with two glossy braids hanging down her back, regarded them with frank curiosity. "But why frogs?"

"These are toads," Zacarías corrected her. "Not frogs."

She rolled her eyes, which were a startling shade of purple that matched the violets growing on the riverbank. "All right, then, why toads?"

Zacarías looked down his short nose at her. "Because they are clever and agile and helpful, since they eat insects, and some are even poisonous," he finished impressively. "Those are the most beautiful."

The girl glanced at the creatures in question dubiously. "Are you sure? They look rather ugly to me."

"That's because fortunately for us, these are not the poisonous kind," Joaquin explained. Zacarías had been rendered wordless by her unflattering judgment of his current passion.

She turned her attention to him for the first time. "Are you also going to be a naturalist and study ugly creatures?"

Zacarías opened his mouth to protest, but Joaquin said quickly, "Not me."

"Then what are you going to be?"

He dug his bare toes into the oozy mud. "I don't know yet. I don't think I have much of a choice. My family have been orange farmers for generations. I'll probably never travel farther than the next town over, and that will be to sell oranges."

"I don't think so." The girl regarded him steadily with her uncanny eyes.

He smiled at her confident pronouncement. "You don't?"

She nodded and beckoned him closer, and he leaned down obligingly so she could whisper in his ear, "I know because I can see the future."

She wasn't quite as quiet as she had hoped because Zacarías started to laugh.

"It's true! Don't you believe me?" she demanded, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"Of course n–"

"I believe you," Joaquin said, and a surprisingly sweet smile spread over her face.

Before she could say anything else, they heard a boy's shout, his voice conveying both relief and exasperation.

"Rosalía! You were supposed to stay close by." It was a boy around their age, with the same rich dark hair as the girl. He skidded to a halt, showering them with dust and stray clumps of dirt as he wiped the sweat from his face. "Papá told me to keep an eye on you, and you know–"

"I'm _fine_, Dimas." She rolled her eyes, impatient with his fussing. "I just went down the hill."

"You know you can't wander off alone anymore. It's dangerous."

"Papá's worried about the kidnappings," Rosalía explained knowingly to the other two boys.

"You aren't supposed to know about them!" Dimas exclaimed, outraged. "Even I don't get to get to hear the grownups talk about it. Mamá always makes them go talk somewhere else."

Joaquin tilted his head, using his left hand to shade his eyes from the hot sun. "Kidnappings? We haven't heard anything about them."

"You must not be from around here."

"Of course they aren't," Rosalía scoffed. "Have you ever seen them before?"

Dimas looked injured, so Joaquin explained quickly, "We're visiting my uncle, Donato de Vittoria."

His face cleared. "We know Marqués Donato. He has the best orange groves in the area."

"Yes, oranges. It's always oranges with the de Vittorias," Zacarías quipped, while Joaquin accepted the compliment to his family with a courteous bow to Dimas and an elbow in the ribs for Zacarías.

"Anyway, there have been several kidnappings over the past few months," Dimas told them. "Anonymous ransom notes were sent to their families. Sometimes they demand money, but other times they want old family heirlooms. Diamonds and emeralds, rubies and sapphires have all been exchanged for hostages. Some of them have been secret for so long that it was a wonder the kidnapers even knew to ask for them."

Rosalía crossed her arms. "What do they want with those stupid jewels, anyway?"

"They're extremely valuable, for one thing. Besides, most women worship gemstones the way you covet chocolate," Dimas teased her. "Mamá says you'll change your mind one day."

She shook her head, a mulish look on her face. "I _never_ change my mind."

He grinned. "It's true enough. Anyway, we should return before they come looking for us, Rosalía," he said to his sister.

"Yes, Dimas," she sighed. "It was nice to meet you, Toad Naturalist and Orange Farmer."

As the two heads as dark as blackbird wings disappeared in the distance, Joaquin asked, "Do you think she can really see the future?"

"Hm?" Zacarías was crouched down again, having already resumed his prospecting.

Patiently, he repeated his question.

"Don't be silly. That's impossible," Zacarías replied dismissively. "Only witches can see the future, and everyone knows they spring fully-grown from spider web silk and dead embers on the night of the new moon."

Joaquin let the matter drop. As he dangled his feet in the water luxuriously and watched his friend catch toads, he thought that the little spitfire seemed like someone who could make the impossible possible.


	2. Omens

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story! See first chapter for character list.

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Omens_

* * *

At age ten, Rosalía was fairly certain she had encountered her first witch – her cousin Belén, who had the poisonous voice and viciously sharp fingernails to match. Her skin was getting bruised from the hard pinches she received when Belén thought she was misbehaving.

Fortunately for her, most of Belén's concentration was focused on cornering Dimas. She would feel more sympathy for her brother if he hadn't done what she couldn't do – escape. Rosalía hadn't seen her brother for a week and suspected he was hiding out at Casimiro de Ortega's house. She desperately wished she had been able to go with him.

But it wouldn't be proper now that she was getting older, and if there was one thing everyone said about Casimiro, it was that he always did the proper thing. It was rather boring, really. But Joaquin would probably take her, if she asked him. Rosalía tilted her head, using the cover of the flickering candlelight to study Joaquin covertly.

He was visiting his uncle again, this time sans Zacarías, for the first time in three years. The boys had been thick as thieves since his arrival, leaving Rosalía to Belén's tender mercies. Any day now, Joaquin's older brother would arrive to take him home, and that was the only reason he wasn't at Casimiro's with the rest of them.

Rosalía propped her chin in her hand, watching as he roasted chestnuts in the fireplace while exchanging jokes with her cousin Marcelo. Joaquin was always nice to her, even after the time she had blurted out that she wanted to marry him. But she'd only been seven years old – too young to know any better. He'd even taken the other boys' teasing in stride, although there had seemed to be an awful lot of "accidental" falling into the river that week.

"It's time for little girls to be in bed, Rosalía."

The hated voice spoke from the looming darkness above her, and Rosalía saw the glitter of the green stones Belén always wore around her neck and at her eyes before she saw her cousin's sour face. Belén didn't enjoy the task of turning her younger cousin into a proper lady any more than Rosalía did, but at least she was in the position of power.

She knew it was useless to argue, but she couldn't help herself. "It's so early! Mamá always lets me stay up later when we have company."

"Don't be such a brat, Rosalía. Do as I say." Belén raised her eyebrows. "Unless you want me to disturb Aunt Reina's rest and tell her you're making a fuss?"

That was Belén's trump card. Her mother was sick, which was one of the reasons Rosalía was being left to her cousin's tender mercies. The second reason was Belén's other main weapon: she had been presented at court in the fall and claimed sophistication, grace, and skills beyond Rosalía's experience. Her parents had been thrilled when Belén had come to stay with them.

If Belén did go talk to her, Reina would laugh and tell her in her nice way that she appreciated Belén taking such good care of her daughter, but it wouldn't do her any harm to stay up later this one night. But her mother was probably asleep. She slept so much these days, but it did nothing to erase the dark shadows beneath her eyes. And Rosalía knew her father wouldn't like it.

"No," Rosalía said sullenly. "I'll go."

"And make sure you wash up again before you go to bed. Look what a mess you've made, eating all those sweets," Belén scolded.

Rosalía hid her sticky fingers in her skirts. When Belén turned her back, she lingered in the alcove by the stairs, taking her time in filling the basin with water.

Belén flounced back to her seat by another one of their cousins.

"Did you send Rosalía to bed?" Graciela inquired, resettling her tumbling black curls over one shoulder.

Belén nodded. "You're lucky you're not the one who has to be responsible for her. Aunt Reina promised she was a good child, but my word, she's been nothing but trouble since the moment I arrived."

"Oh, but those big violet eyes of hers will be quite striking once she grows up. It shouldn't be too hard to turn her into a lady."

Belén snorted delicately. "That's what you think, but she's the worst tomboy. Always playing outdoors in the sun, getting her skin rough and freckled. And her taste for sweets is deplorable. I shudder to think of her eating at the king's table, if she's even lucky enough to receive an invitation."

Graciela laughed lightly. "Surely you're being too harsh, Belén."

"I am not. All that girl is good at is talking back. She's a spoiled brat with no redeeming features."

Rosalía fled, leaving the pitcher on the floor. The sound of Belén likening her spinet playing to the sound of a cat being tortured rang in her ears.

Joaquin found her in the kitchen, her knees drawn up as she huddled against the cabinets.

"What are you doing here, Rosalía? I thought you'd gone to bed," he said in his cheerful way before his sharp blue eyes noticed the tearstains on her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'd better go up before Belén catches me," she muttered.

Joaquin's mouth twisted at the mention of her name. "Dimas said she's teaching you now. That must not be any fun."

"It's not," she admitted, watching as he rummaged through the cabinet for more chestnuts.

"You shouldn't listen to the mean things she says. She makes up lies about people because she's an unhappy person," Joaquin said matter-of-factly.

"But Belén is smart and beautiful. Everyone says so."

He regarded her quizzically. "So you want to be like her?"

"No! But they say she will make an excellent match at court. She must know what she's talking about when she says..." Here she faltered, unwilling to tell him what Belén said about her. What if he believed them, too?

"She's a greedy person. People who are greedy like that will swallow the world. They don't know anything true about other people; they only know what they want from them."

He pulled the last chestnut he had roasted out of his pocket and started peeling off the prickly shell. The heart of the chestnut popped out whole. "A good omen," he remarked, then offered it to her. "I like you exactly the way you are."

"Really?" She looked up at him, ignoring the perfectly-roasted nutmeat in her hand.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"I know." She glanced down at her toes. "Do you think Mamá will be all right?"

"I hope so."

Rosalía liked that about him, how he was honest with her instead of falsely reassuring like the adults.

Joaquin paused, then asked quietly, "Can you see her future?"

Rosalía shook her head. "It's hard for me to see the future of anyone I love clearly."

Suddenly, they heard Belén's voice drifting towards them from the corridor, and he jerked his head at the side door. "Hurry up. I'll cover for you."

She fled, and it wasn't until she had gotten to her room that she discovered the chestnut still clutched tightly in her fingers. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, savoring the sweet, smoky flavor that accompanied her into her dreams.


	3. Oranges I

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story!

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Oranges I_

* * *

Joaquin sighed as he pushed the spade into the dirt again, using his foot to drive it deeper into the packed earth. There was nothing about this task that he liked – it was the hottest part of summer, and he had been sent to clear the dead orange trees from the orchard. They had been weakened by drought and stricken by blight, and it saddened him to see the once-graceful trees dead.

He paused to take a break, leaning on the wooden handle while he wiped his forehead with a damp handkerchief. All he wanted to do was retreat inside the blessedly cool darkness of the hallways and daydream about Magdalena de Saravia, she of the hair like sunlight spun into silk and eyes as blue as the deepest part of the river.

It should have been perfect: they had known each other for years, their families would be open to the match, and she would light up all his days. Except there was one little problem – she had fallen in love with his friend Casimiro. But Casimiro barely knew girls existed, even one as gorgeous as Magdalena, so he still had a chance. Maybe.

"Joaquin! What do you think of my new dress?"

He raised his head as Rosalía ran down the hill towards him, then spun around once so the full skirt flared out. He gave her that lazy smile of his that always made her heart race these days. "It's nice. You look good in white, Rosalía."

"I'm wearing it to the dance tomorrow night," she told him. "Will you dance with me?"

"Of course."

Just then, Nicodemo de Villarreal sauntered up to them, his dogs at his heels and his hands in his pockets. "Greetings, Rosalía. Joaquin," he nodded at each in turn. "Have you heard the news? The de Saravias are staying for the dance."

"Really?" Joaquin straightened. Suddenly, the dance had transformed from a mildly pleasant distraction to a golden opportunity.

"What's so interesting about that?" Rosalía asked.

Nico grinned and answered conspiratorially, "Because Joaquin's in love with Magdalena de Saravia. He hasn't been having any luck in winning a kiss from her, though."

Joaquin shoved him roughly with his free hand. "Be quiet. Stop telling everyone, you idiot!"

Meanwhile, Rosalía decided that she hated Magdalena de Saravia with all her heart, even though they had never met.

At the dance, Rosalía was one of the younger girls in attendance, but she had plenty of partners due to her lightness of feet and grace in executing the dance figures. Joaquin remembered his promise to dance with her, but she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes tracked a certain blonde head through the crowd.

After the last circle dance, for which he had managed to secure Magdalena as his partner, he brought her over to meet Rosalía. "This is Rosalía de Teran, Dimas's younger sister. She can see the future," he told Magdalena with all the pride of an older brother for his younger sister.

"Really?" Magdalena asked, her eyes wide and her smile warm. "What do you see in Joaquin's future?"

Rosalía's eyes stung. She hadn't had any clear visions of Joaquin for nearly a year and a half now. "Oranges," she replied spitefully, then curtsied quickly and walked away, ignoring their puzzled looks.

From then on, her manner was unaccountably cool towards him. He vowed to figure out what he had done to provoke her wrath, but before long, the rise of the Oscura Luna turned the world upside down, bringing with it greater chaos and heartbreak than they had ever known.


	4. Faith

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story!

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Faith_

* * *

In five years, the world could change, and not always for the better. Joaquin missed the carefree days of getting into mischief with his friends and pining after Magdalena, his mother's cooking, and the horse who had taught him to ride. He even missed the orange groves and the backbreaking work that went into maintaining them. This work was just as important, but on most days, it felt like his soul was burning to ash.

The Oscura Luna was everywhere. The courts were rigged, and the king turned a blind eye to the violence swallowing up the province because he was both greedy and weak . And now Zacarías's mother was dead.

Joaquin had liked Ysabel de Santangel more than some of his aunts, and he couldn't imagine a world without her. The Oscura Luna had created a world where it became fact. His spirit was constantly burdened with grief and worry, and he felt like he aged ten years in the space of each day.

He had been shaky with relief when Emilia de Palma and her father finally returned to camp, reporting on the survivors of the last raid. In private, Emilia had given him more details about Zacarías's injuries.

"He'll be fine and should recover quickly. This time. But that man takes too many risks," she said. As usual, her gaze was sad and serious, but Joaquin was surprised at the unusual note of exasperation in her tone.

He poured her another mug of over-brewed tea. "I know. But it's in his nature. Would you believe he once wanted to be a naturalist?"

Emilia's answering smile was sweetly wistful. "I can believe it."

Joaquin was startled to feel the laughter rising within him. "I couldn't even count how many frogs, lizards, and beetles we caught each summer."

It was three hours before dawn, and she soon left to get some rest after being up two nights in a row. He was waiting for a message from their allies in the next town. He felt his spirits lift when he spotted the rider, a familiar figure with sweat-soaked black hair and sapphire blue eyes.

"It's good to see you, old friend." Their handclasp was brief but firm, and Joaquin knew that as he was looking Dimas over, noting new scars and old shadows under the eyes, his friend was doing the same to him.

"And you."

Dimas handed over the leather pouch of encoded reports, hidden under his shirt and carried over his heart during the long, perilous ride.

"Is your family well?" Joaquin asked, working on the knotted leather ties.

Dimas smiled briefly as he helped himself to the tea. "Yes. Rosalía is furious at being confined to a safe house, but we've convinced her that her skills are needed as a last line of defense for the children if the Oscura Luna find the house."

It still horrified him that their nemeses were willing to stop at nothing, not even killing innocent children, to get their way. Joaquin shook himself, looking for the small pinpricks of starlight in the overwhelming darkness. "Well, that should be enough to keep them away. Your sister is terrifying."

Dimas laughed softly. "Oh, yes. She has a fearsome temper, a strong arm, and excellent aim. When I saw her last, she asked about you."

"Did she?" He was inordinately pleased. Somehow, they had had a falling-out a couple of years ago, and he still didn't know why. He always hoped there would be a chance for reconciliation if this nightmare ever came to an end.

"I believe her exact words were, 'I hope that idiot Joaquin has managed to keep himself in one piece.' When I reassured her that you had, she said, 'Good. Tell him to keep it that way.'"

Joaquin was torn between amusement and chagrin. "Nice of her to have such faith in me."

Dimas stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his upper back. He made a face as one of his joints popped, then cautiously rotated his right shoulder again. "Oh, she does. She just won't admit it out loud. But whenever I tell her you'll be with me on a mission, I see the worry in her eyes ease. Just for a moment, but it always does."


	5. Fire

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story!

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Fire_

* * *

The constant worry and the lack of privacy were stifling. The safe house on the far edge of an abandoned farm was filled to the rafters with women, children, and occasionally the wounded, and Rosalía had spent over a year there already. The babies' wailing, the silent tears, and the groans of pain from the sickroom were endless, but they weren't nearly as bad as the specters that haunted her waking and sleeping hours.

Rosalía could no longer tell her visions from her nightmares, for both were equally dark. She always volunteered for night shifts in the sickroom, fetching water and brewing what tisanes she could from their dwindling stores. It didn't help that she knew any visions involving her loved ones were merely conjurings of her mind. It didn't mean they were safe. It didn't mean the nightmares wouldn't come to pass.

After a particularly bad dream where Joaquin was stabbed from behind, she threw off her covers and picked her way carefully around the five other sleepers in the room. She climbed onto the roof, resting her feet against the red clay tiles as she drew in deep breaths of the muggy night air.

Rosalía was weary in body and mind after a full day of teaching the older children to shoot bows and the younger children to use slingshots, but sleep remained elusive. She wondered where Dimas and Joaquin were on this overcast night, when the moon was just a faint smoky nimbus in the matte sky.

The familiar sound of horses' hooves caught her ear, and she braced herself against the chimney as she listened for what direction they were coming from. With her free hand, she reached for the bow and quiver resting at her feet. Galloping horses at this hour of the night were never a good sign.

Her eyes narrowed when she heard the hissing strike of a flint, and the tell-tale flare of red orange in the distance. It couldn't be.

The flame-tipped arrow that soared through the night confirmed her worst fears. It had been a dry summer, meaning the grass as parched and they had precious little water on hand, and even kitchen fires could be deadly once they spread. She scrambled back down into the hall, no longer worrying about waking anyone. In fact, that was her objective.

Rosalía ran through the house, pounding on every door she came to until a sufficient number of people were awake. They trickled outside, carrying infants and trying to keep sleepy children on their feet. Rosalía made sure the efforts to move the worst wounded were had begun before she started back to the upper floors.

"Where are you going?"

She spun around to see her cousin Graciela, who had ghosted through her days hollow-eyed and pale since the news came that her betrothed had died. Rosalía didn't think she'd heard her speak two words in as many months.

"I have to get onto the roof and pick off as many of the attackers possible."

"You'll be a clear target up there," Graciela observed. "And they're going to set the house afire."

Rosalía shrugged. The movement did nothing to dislodge the fear from climbing the acid path between her stomach and her throat. "If I don't, everyone leaving this house is going to be killed by steel instead of fire."

"I'm coming with you."

Rosalía considered protesting, but in the end, she went up first and helped Graciela through the narrow trapdoor. She set the first arrow to her string, watching the people streaming out of the house and waiting for the ambush to emerge.

When it came, she chose her target and released in one smooth motion. Then her fingers reached back for the next arrow. Their quivers emptied more rapidly than she thought possible, and Rosalía used her soot-streaked sleeve to wipe away the tears that came to her eyes at the screams of those who hadn't escaped reached her ears.

There were too many of them, all swinging blades that gleamed darkly with blood, and two wings and the second floor of the house were on fire. Just when she thought all hope was lost, a second group of horsemen cleared the woods and engaged the enemy.

For tonight, the Oscura Luna were dispatched, but by this point, it was clear the house was doomed.

"The whole thing is turning into an inferno," Graciela said softly.

Rosalía looked down at the people milling around the house and thought she spotted Joaquin's bright head among them. "It's too high to jump, and there's no time to for them to find something to catch us with."

Her voice drifted into silence when she saw the blond-haired man, who had been arguing furiously with the others, dunk an armful of sheets that had been salvaged into a bucket of water. They watched, wide-eyed, as two figures ran into the burning house.

"Get inside!" Rosalía ordered, pushing her cousin ahead of her. When they were halfway along the third-floor corridor, Dimas and Joaquin appeared and draped the wet sheets around them. With their aid, they made it to the second floor.

"The bottoms floors are done for!" Dimas shouted, coughing from the smoke. Fiery debris was falling all around them.

"We'll have to jump," Joaquin said grimly.

Rosalía and Graciela went first, and then Dimas and Joaquin. As Dimas caught her in a tight hug, Rosalía heard the roof fall in. When he released her and turned to Graciela, Rosalía found herself enfolded in Joaquin's arms.

"Excellent timing," she whispered, aware that he was shaking as much as she was.

He managed a choked laugh. "Per your orders, I've been keeping myself in one piece for just such an occasion. But I think you are the true hero tonight, Rosalía."

She closed her eyes and let her head drop onto his shoulder. She didn't remember falling asleep on her feet, but when she woke again, in a new safe house, she discovered that Joaquin had been called away again.


	6. Oranges II

**Title**: Oranges and Omens

**Description**: Childhood friends Rosalía and Joaquin have shared the most important parts of their lives together – except for their feelings about each other.

**A/N**: Third piece in the Santa Esperanza universe. Apsara, this one wouldn't have been written without you – many thanks for wanting to know more about Joaquin and Rosalía's story!

* * *

_Oranges and Omens_

_Oranges II_

* * *

Desperate times called for desperate measures. The Oscura Luna had been defeated and there was peace at last, but a week ago, she had laced Joaquin's water glass with chili dust and she hadn't seen him since. Rosalía had always meant to apologize for her behavior, but every time she saw him, she grew tongue-tied and resorted to her old ways of taunting him. On the outside, she was cool and haughty, but inwardly, she was agonizing over why he couldn't see how she felt. Why he didn't feel the same way about her.

She groaned. He must think her as terrible as Belén, and she couldn't bear for that to be the case. Rosalía didn't want to be a child around him anymore. She didn't want him to think of her as Dimas's younger sister or even an old friend. But she couldn't figure out how to tell him.

Her dislike of Magdalena had lasted only ten minutes of genuine conversation with her, and that had been Rosalía at her most stubborn. She had been the one to hold Magdalena's hand when Casimiro disappeared, captured by the Oscura Luna. His friends had launched a daring – and unauthorized – rescue, and now Magdalena and Casimiro were happily married.

Joaquin appeared to have gotten over his infatuation with Magdalena, but she still didn't seem like quite the right person to consult. Neither did Emilia, who as far as Rosalía could tell had been actively trying to discourage Zacarías from courting her for several years. In the end, she went to see one of her dearest and most sensible friends.

Seated at the freshly-scrubbed kitchen table with a delicious platter of friend dough in front of her, Rosalía took a deep breath. "Maricela, I need your help."

"With what?" The brunette asked in surprise. It was rare for independent, spirited Rosalía de Teran to ask anyone for help.

"Before he met you, I would have insisted that Nico only had eyes for good food and dogs."

Maricela smiled good-naturedly. "In that order, too."

"And if you asked him what the woman who had just passed by was wearing, he would have asked, 'What woman?' So how did you make him notice you?"

She eyed her friend knowingly. "This is about Joaquin, isn't it?"

"Does everyone know?" Rosalía demanded, disgruntled.

"Well, not Joaquin, apparently, and not your brother." Marciela laughed.

"Of course, the two blind idiots," she grumbled.

"Well, with the way you speak to him, I don't believe Joaquin thinks he has a chance, Rosalía," Maricela said gently. "It sounds to me as if it may be time for you to take one."

At the end of the afternoon, Rosalía left the house with the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice on her tongue and Joaquin on the mind. She knew just where to find him.

As expected, he was in the heart of the orange grove, checking the roots of a young tree that had been planted the previous season. Joaquin was surprised to see her coming towards him, all alone, but all he said was, "If you're here to serve me more chili powder, I'll have to decline."

She felt her cheeks flame. "That was a bit childish of me."

He waved a hand. "If you can't be childish around childhood friends, when can you be childish?"

Rosalía watched him work as he waited patiently for her to reveal why she had sought him out. "You told me once that you liked me as I was. Do you still?"

Turning to face her, Joaquin stood up and dusted his hands off. "Of course I do."

"Even when I put chili dust in your water?"

He laughed. "Rosalía, my life would be unutterably dull without you. You keep me on my toes. Otherwise, I would be merely a boring old orange farmer who's never set foot out of the province."

She bit her lip. "You know that time Magdalena asked me about your future, and I said I saw oranges?"

He smiled ruefully. "Yes. I must admit I was a bit crushed for awhile, thinking all I would ever see in my life were orange groves. But now I've had more than enough adventure to last me for a lifetime, and I'm rather fond of the, after all."

"Well… it wasn't true. I just made it up."

"Why would you do that?" Joquin's expression suddenly turned worried. "Did you see something you didn't want to tell me about?"

Rosalía blushed. "No, it's just… do you remember that I told you I couldn't see the futures of certain people very clearly? Like my mother, and Dimas…"

Joaquin nodded. "Yes. People you love."

"Well, I can't see your future clearly."

"Because you…"

Damn the man. He was going to make her say it after all. "Because I love you."

He watched her with those bright blue eyes, briefly flaring with excitement before he said gloomily, "You mean like a brother. Like the way you love Dimas."

Rosalía couldn't believe her ears – or her actions. She actually stamped her foot. "No! You're such an _idiot_, Joaquin! You're blind, and you've always been so blind!"

She looked up at him, embarrassed and angry and terribly in love with this infuriating man. "I've been waiting all my life for you to notice me."

"Well, I've been waiting for the past few years for _you_ to notice that I've fallen in love with you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"I know." She started to say more, but he leaned down and kissed her with devastating slowness.

"You taste like oranges," she murmured dreamily when their lips finally parted. "I love oranges."

Joaquin lifted her by the waist and whirled her around in the air, and her skirts flared in a perfect bell, just as they had when she was thirteen and showing off her new dress to him. "Well, I love you, Rosalía. Will you marry me?"

"Right now?"

He grinned at her. "I know you like to decide such things. I'll leave the timing up to you."

They walked up the hill from the orange grove, hand-in-hand, and argued amicably about their future together. The sun set late that evening, adorned with streamers of rich purple and blush pink, and all who saw agreed that it was a good omen.

_Fin_


End file.
